Page 77 of Small Town Hunter

“Not for you.”

“I’ll give you fifty dollars,” McCall says.

“And where would you get fifty dollars, Red? I took everything off you.”

“My wife’s coming. She’ll give it to you. You saw what I was walking with, you know I’m good for it.”

His wife…That was his wife and kid.

Roman never told me. The bastard. He wanted me to just handle it.

“Believe it when I see it,” the jailer snorts. “I’ve heard it all, boy, so just you be quiet.”

“If he dies in here it’s on you,” McCall says.

The jailer laughs. It sounds like he’s chewing on something— probably a donut.

“If he dies in here they might give me a raise. That’s the punk that stole Reverend Wilson’s wife.”

“Shut up,” I tell McCall, lest the bastard talk the other bastard into killing me for some perceived reward.

The irony.

“Have a heart. He’s got a family.”

He turns to me and I see a surprising glint of humor. “You do have a family, right?”

I give him the thumbs up.

“HEY! HEY! HEY!” McCall roars.

The jailer stamps up to the bars and tosses something through. “That’ll fucking cost you. Now shut the fuck up!”

I lay there like a whipped dog while McCall picks up what’s scattered all over the floor, which sounds like little pins.

“You got to stitch that head up,” he says to me. “It’s fucked.”

“Don’t touch…me.”

“We have to talk, man.”

“Talk,” I grunt, eyes still shut. “Ain’t like…going anywhere.”

“How much is Roman paying you?” McCall asks, sitting next to me again. His voice lowers. “We can work something out. Otherwise I’ll have to let you die.”

“Ha.”

“Try me.”

“Half.”

“Smart. I would have offered the same. But he’s lying.”

“You…think?” Roman would sooner chew his arm off than give a grunt like me half the family gold. But he isn’t unreasonable —I’d still be rewarded handsomely. “I know…Roman. Snake. Even a fifth… better than nothing.”

“He’s got something on you?” McCall asks shrewdly. “You owe him a favor?”

“Dirty…politics. Stay out.” I’m fading. “Don’t do McCalls…no favor.”

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